When I was first given Marshall Rosenberg’s book, Non-Violent Communication, (NVC) 12 years ago, it sat on my bookshelf, tucked between at least 25 books on Buddhism, mindfulness, and spiritual awakening, for over a year. I had the mindset that I would “get around to it,” but if I was honest, I also thought that the book, given its title, somehow didn’t apply to me. I didn’t see myself as violent, and therefore, I didn’t feel a rush to read it. I also didn’t see its connection to the books that surrounded it. Eventually I would come to realize the deep connection between NVC and mindfulness, and I would see NVC for what it actually is- a spiritual practice.

Suppression vs. Losing It:

I’ve struggled with communicating since childhood. I would swing between suppressing myself and lashing out, a pattern that I seemed to have little control over. I kept thinking there had to be some middle ground between being a doormat and losing my temper. That middle ground proved to be quite elusive, and the extremes fed each other. The more I was a doormat the angrier I got and the angrier I got the more I lost my temper. This often led to me feeling ashamed of myself, and I would find myself being a doormat again. It was a vicious cycle.

As a therapist observing the way couples communicated, it was easier. I could usually see both sides and feel compassion for the two people sitting in my office, appreciating their attempts to communicate in a better way for the survival of their relationship. Even though I could feel compassion for both people as the observer generally free of my own personal entanglement, I noticed it was difficult for the couple to do so. They were entrenched in their own pain- in who was right and who was wrong- and were looking for validation of their point of view which their partner was reluctant to give as that seemed to negate his/her own.

The NVC Mindfulness Connection:

One day I was scouring my bookshelf for something to read that would help soothe the pain of “losing it,” and there was Non-Violent Communication, poking out as if to say, “Choose me!” This time the title struck me differently. I could see the violence in my own communication, and the emotional pain that was inflicted on myself and others when I was caught in the doormat/losing it cycle. In my work with couples it was there too – so often the pain people came in to talk about was inflicted by words as well as actions. I started to read. When I finished it, I felt as though I had been given an incredible gift. Finally, someone had written down and clearly explained how to communicate in a way that honored both myself and others. The genius of the book was that it outlined a concrete, teachable skill, and that it was pointing to a consciousness that promoted peace, compassion, inter-connectedness, presence, and non-judgment- the same consciousness that was cultivated through mindfulness. Through my own experience as well as my experience working with others, I have found it very difficult to use NVC without the support of a mindfulness practice. They are like 2 beams supporting a roof. If you take one away, the roof is going to come crashing down. So what exactly is mindfulness, and what is NVC? How are they connected?

What is Mindfulness?

Jon Kabat-Zinn, the creator of Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction, has distilled the definition to be, “Mindfulness is awareness that arises through paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, non-judgmentally.” Mindfulness slows everything down so that we can actually pay attention to all the layers of what is going on, internally and externally. In our lives there is this urge to rush through everything, to get to the next “better” moment, the moment where we will feel happy or find some peace. The problem with this way of thinking is that when we rush through the majority of our life, we miss it. We’re not actually there, experiencing what is happening. Mindfulness is practiced by focusing one’s attention on something in the present moment, usually the breath, and returning to that over and over when the attention wanders. This practice strengthens our ability to have access to the part of our brain that knows NVC, especially when we are emotionally overwhelmed.

What is NVC?

Non-Violent Communication has 4 components:

1) Observation (o)

2) Feeling (f)

3) Need/Value (n)

4) Request (r)

NVC strives to create compassionate communication by eliminating judgment, connecting feelings to needs instead of to other people’s behavior, and exploring options for different ways of behaving (requests) that would reduce conflict and promote harmony for all involved.

From Reaction to Conscious Response:

Often, our way of being in the world is: 1) something happens that is upsetting and 2) we react. Person A did B which caused me to do or feel C. There isn’t a lot of self-awareness going on. There’s usually a thought, a surge of emotional energy, and then a reaction. The whole process happens so quickly that it’s over before we know what happened. Mindfulness slows this process down and has us examine the belief system fueling the thought, the emotional charge, and the reaction. NVC gives us the structure to communicate what we have noticed and what is essential for the conflict to be resolved.

Let’s look at a concrete example:

It’s first thing in the morning, not my best time of day, and I’m trying to get my 7 year-old son to school on time. We’ve actually made it out the door and I think I’m in the clear. Then I’m thrown off- he’s not making a bee-line to the car like I think he should be. Instead, he’s stopped to look at something on the ground. I immediately lash out, “Let’s go! Get in the car!” My tone is harsh, authoritarian. Instead of getting in the car, he looks at me, clearly hurt, and starts to cry. “I was just looking at this ant!” He says indignantly, and he sits down. Through my unconscious reaction I’ve created the very thing I was hoping to avoid, and now we really are going to be late.

The Mindfulness/NVC intersection:

1) Observe what’s happening. My son is looking at an ant. I didn’t actually know that because I had not taken the time to pay attention to what he was doing- other than to note it was not what I thought he “should” be doing. This makes me aware of my judgment. I notice my thoughts: “He’s slow, why can’t he just get in the car, we’re going to be late. I’m going to get that annoying call from the school saying he was tardy.” My mind has a lot to say. I notice my own self-judgment as well the fear of being judged by others- I’m not a good mom if I can’t get my child to school on time.

2) Create a pause before reacting by practicing mindfulness, paying attention to one’s inner and outer experience. My chest feels tight. There is a speediness/anxiousness to my energy buzzing through my entire body. I want to move. My son is wearing a green coat that matches the grass. There is a pleasant breeze. I feel my breath moving my chest up and down.

3) Become aware of feelings and tie them to a need(s). I’m feeling anxious because I need/value being on time. Notice how this is distinct from I’m feeling anxious because he’s not getting in the car. I am taking responsibility for my own experience and not blaming him.

4) Communicate using NVC. “I see you looking at the ant, (o) and I feel anxious (f) because it’s important to me that you get to school on time. (n) Would you be willing to get in the car?” (r)

5) I also have the option, and this is often a better place to start with children, of trying to guess his feelings and needs. “I see you looking at an ant, (o) and I wonder if you are feeling very interested (f) in what he is doing, and would really like some time to watch him?” (n). Showing him that I understand his experience, or that I am at the very least interested in understanding it, creates connection and is more likely to lead to cooperation.

The NVC state of mind is a present mind, not bogged down by judgment, interpretation, and the past.

NVC’s purpose is compassion and the acceptance of inter-connectedness. That is, my well-being is connected to yours. In the example above, my son and I are connected. It’s going to take both of us to get to school on time. NVC recognizes that lashing out or avoiding conflict will create more problems in the long run, and seeks peace over being right. It values the needs of one’s self and the needs of others equally. Mindfulness practice enhances our ability to choose our reaction in the midst of our own emotional chaos and to actually be able to use NVC. Together, these 2 practices can transform our relationships, helping us move from the doormat/lashing out cycle to communication that actually connects us and resolves conflict.

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/non-violent-communication-nvc-mindfulness-connection/feed0Touch and Go: Meditation for Painhttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/meditation-for-pain
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/meditation-for-pain#commentsMon, 07 Nov 2016 04:29:28 +0000http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/?p=2034When my horse got to the highway side of the fence, I started to panic. I used a meditation technique called "Touch and Go" to work with my experience as it unfolded.

It’s 7:50am and I see I have 2 voice mail messages on my phone as I drive down the canyon from my mountain home. I don’t think much of it, other than I don’t recognize the numbers. My office is off a main, somewhat rural, highway on a horse ranch that is a 40-acre sanctuary in the midst of what is becoming suburban sprawl. I get to my office and play the first voice mail, which is from a concerned passerby who saw my horse on the wrong side of the fence- the highway side. I check the time he left the message- 6:45am. Emotional overwhelm kicks in. I start to panic. It’s now 7:50am, and my first client of the day will be arriving at 8:00am. There isn’t a person in sight, or a horse for that matter. I lace up my boots, heart pounding, and head outside.

Dealing With Pain: Option 3

The previous day I had taught a meditation technique, touch and go, to a group of teachers at my son’s school, so the instruction is fresh in my mind. Touch and go is a way to work with pain- either physical or emotional, that feels overwhelming. We often tend to do 1 of 2 things when we are in pain: 1) avoid what we feel, or 2) really sink our teeth into it and hold on, ruminating and clinging. Both generate an extra layer of suffering. The first strategy results in the suppression of emotion which leads to all kinds of problems, (lashing out at others, irritability, depression, anxiety, physical illness, etc.) and the second strategy creates a perpetual state that feels solid which is contrary to the ever changing reality we actually inhabit. As a result of holding on, we resist our present moment experience, which creates more pain. Touch and go offers a third option: Don’t suppress and don’t solidify the experience- rather flow between feeling the experience and letting it go.

Touch and Go

Touch and go was originally taught by Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche and taught to me by Dale Asrael, a student of Trungpa Rinpoche’s. In his well-known Dathun letter (a Dathun is a one-month meditation retreat) Trungpa Rinpoche wrote to the participants, “To describe meditation we could use the phrase touch and go. You are in contact, you’re touching the experience of being there, actually being there-—and then you let go.” Because it’s there, beckoning me as I rush out to investigate what happened, I start to practice.

Touch: I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach, like I’ve just begun to go over the largest hill on the roller coaster. My jaw is tight. I feel anxious and frantic. I stumble. My thoughts are running wild. What happened? Is he ok? Did they take him away? Did he get hit by a car? Did anyone get hurt? Where is he? I also notice my mind wants to blame. Anger arises, and the surge of energy is fast, a lightning bolt through my chest. Touch.

Go: I look at the sky. I see the grass moving in the wind, and feel the sun, appreciating the warm day for this time of year. I feel my feet on the Earth as I walk. I follow my exhale and notice it dissolve. Go.

Touch: Back to my body- adrenaline surging, the hook of the mind and the seductive belief that blame will make this better. Self-righteousness pops up: A tightness in my forehead, and the feeling of something stuck in my throat, an urge to lash out and discharge my discomfort – but there’s no one there except me. Fear and a flash of loneliness arise, a hollow mix in my stomach.

Go: The traffic whizzes by, a breeze skims my skin, my feet crunch the rocks as they touch the ground, and then, out of the corner of my eye, Aubie! There he is, tucked just out of sight behind the barn, calmly munching on some grass. He stops eating and lifts his head to look at me. He senses my anxiety and replies with a calm, “Everything is fine.” Back to eating. I am immediately relieved, however, the hangover of the experience continues. I feel like I’ve had 5 cups of coffee.

The other message on my phone is from a state trooper who I find out later managed to get him back on the right side of the fence and to fix the fence. I return his call and leave a message of deep gratitude. I also call Paul, the man who originally spotted Aubie on the side of the highway and called 911. My words of thanks are heartfelt.

Steps for Touch and Go Meditation

If you are struggling with emotional or physical pain in your own life, adding touch and go to your meditation practice could help. The essence of the practice is to touch what is vulnerable, and to do so with kindness and gentleness, and then to let the experience go by widening the view of attention. Here are the steps:

Find a comfortable, upright sitting posture. Or if life throws you a curve ball, like it did me when Aubie got out, you can practice on the spot.

Practice touch. Turn toward your experience. Locate where you feel the pain in your body. Place your awareness where you feel it most.

Bring an attitude of curiosity to what you feel. What are the sensations you are labeling as pain? Some questions you can ask yourself: Does what I feel have a shape? If it had a color what would it be? Is it still or does it move? If I stay with it does it change, or stay the same?

Notice your thoughts. Pay attention to repetitive thoughts, self-criticism, the urge to dissociate (check out). Label them thinking. Your awareness of your body and your thoughts may alternate, as mine did when I was trying to find Aubie.

Practice go. Make your world larger than the pain. Allow other things into your awareness such as sound, light, shadow, and your exhale.

Alternate between touch and go at your own pace. Sometimes I have a quicker pace- touch on the inhale and go on the exhale- and sometimes I practice touch for several breaths and go for several breaths.

*Touch and go is not meant to replace medical care or mental health support. Many thing we struggle with, especially trauma or serious medical conditions, are best healed with the support of another person.

Embracing Change

My story has a happy ending, and many don’t. Sometimes there is no quick fix to whatever distress we are feeling. You may be in the middle of a divorce, mourning a loss, overwhelmed with work stress or parenting, or struggling with chronic pain. Practicing touch and go is a way of honoring our experience, of really feeling it, and of not clutching on to it. It is a practice of embracing change. One breath at a time we show up, and we let go, acknowledging that our lives are one transition after another, and that we are in a constant state of change. This is instruction for how to live, and ultimately, for how to die.

Postscript

A few hours after posting this article, I am driving home from work on Hwy 93, the same highway that Aubie was dangerously close to. As I drive by another horse property just north of my office, I notice that their gate is open, and just to the north of that gate are 2 horses. As I speed by at 55 mph, I can’t help but wonder if my eyes have deceived me somehow- but no- I know that gate was open. Then I start thinking silently, Maybe someone left it open on purpose. Maybe someone is right there that you didn’t see. Someone will notice. Then I realize, that someone is me. I turn around and head back to the property. Sure enough, the gate is open. The horses stop eating and watch me as I walk up to the gate and pull it shut, making sure the latches are in place. I look around. No one seems to be home. I feel peaceful. Some karmic energy has resolved itself.

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/meditation-for-pain/feed1Losing Aby: Grief and Stillnesshttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/grief
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/grief#commentsSat, 27 Aug 2016 03:25:06 +0000http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/?p=2018My experience of losing my dog, Aby, of feeling grief, and trying to explain death to my six year old son.

It is done. There is a stillness in the house that I don’t recognize. My husband asks if I want pasta and wine. My son is singing Jeff and Paige songs. I realize that the stillness is actually inside of me- her parting gift. I wish to hold her warm body in my lap, stroking her head and gently rubbing the pink spot right above her nose. Instead it’s my laptop on my lap. A poor substitute for a soft, furry friend and the feel of her breath going in and out. I wish I’d have remembered that more throughout the years when my computer sucked me in.

“She went really quickly,” Danielle says. “Her body was tired. Sometimes they hang on for us.”

The stillness. Suddenly I am craving it. I ask my husband to do bedtime routine. He graciously agrees, even though he is hurting too. I want to be alone. I want to be drenched by what has happened. To not skimp over even the smallest part of it. Her death has made me more grateful for my life, and right now that means for my grief.

The morning of my 6 year-old is angry at me. I do a number of things wrong including walking down the stairs “too fast” and driving the “wrong” way to school. “What day is it?” He asks me. “Thursday,” I say. “Do you remember what is happening on Thursday?”
He looks up at me, “I was hoping you’d forget.” A few days ago he begged me, “Please don’t call the person to kill Aby! Please!” I try to explain that it’s killing done gently with compassion, assisting an inevitable transition, but he has trouble taking that in. When Danielle arrives, his anger is gone, replaced with a detached silliness. “I want to tell Danielle a knock-knock joke,” he says.

There is a stretcher, and a warm blue blanket to cover her. My husband helps carry her to Danielle’s car. “You’ll get the ashes in 7-10 days,” she says.

Aby will come back, only in a different form. The thought of her thin body being consumed by flames is disturbing. The thought of welcoming her home again is comforting.

I hear dogs barking in the distance and cars whiz by unfazed. The strange space of life after death is alive, breathing through me.

Was I good enough? Kind enough? Loving enough? Appreciative enough? Patient enough? Gentle enough? Did I honor her spirit enough? Did I wait too long? Not long enough? The stillness merges with grief and pulsates my temples. I know regret is useless – its insatiable hunger feeds on itself creating more by consuming the present moment.

She licked my nose as I wept before she died, taking away a tear. She hasn’t done that in awhile. She did the same to my husband, perhaps as an acknowledgement of goodbye and of being ready? Or had she been ready and could she finally sense our readiness?

I held her as she transitioned out of her body and into the unknown, her sweet head cradled in my arm. “Her body was tired.” The vet’s words are my life jacket in an ocean of grief, some reassurance from the outside that I did the right thing. I know it to be true from the inside looking out too. I feel it in the stillness.

The next day I’m at Target with my son, and he loses it over something small. We get to the car and I ask him, “How are you feeling?”
“Sad and tired.” He replies.
“Me too,” I say. “Do you know what you need?”
“No,” he replies.
“I do, I need my dog.”
“That’s what I need too,” he agrees, pauses, and then asks, “Why didn’t I cry yesterday?”
“Sometimes our feelings are so big and overwhelming we can’t feel them in the moment, so we feel them later.” I explain. He pauses again. “That’s what happened to me.” And, Momma?”
“Yes?”
“There’s still more.”
“Yes, for me too.”

To all my clients: A heartfelt thank you for all the love, attention and acceptance you gave Aby in her last few months. Her best days were the days she spent at my office, giving and receiving love, roaming the property, and feeling a sense of purpose. I am forever grateful.

My 5 year old son and I are driving by our new neighbor’s house. He enthusiastically starts waving, rolls down the window and says, “Hi! Hi!” His excitement is contagious, so I start waving too. Our neighbor stands there, looking at us as we pass his house.

“Well he wasn’t very friendly,” I say. Then I pause. I can feel the twinge of judgment in my body, manifesting as a slight tightness in my throat and chest. I aspire to use and teach Non-Violent Communication (NVC) in my house, and I’ve just broken the first guideline, which is to make observations instead of judgments.

Being Aware of Self-Judgment

I could go down the self-judgment road, “What a great role model you are!” “Hypocrite!” However, I’ve learned after enduring years of self-judgment, aka self-torture, that it never leads anywhere other than to a deep, dark, depressed hole. So instead I seize the opportunity as a teachable moment.

“Was that an observation or a judgment?” I ask my son.

“Judgment.” He replies.

“What’s the observation?” I ask.

“He didn’t wave back.” He states simply.

I immediately feel a sense of relief. That’s it. He didn’t wave back. I don’t know anything other than that.

The Connection Between Compassion and Non-Judgment

A large part of raising compassionate children is learning to think and communicate non-judgmentally, which is extremely difficult. We are all marinating in a judgmental, cultural soup that is constantly telling us exactly what is wrong with us, and so, we judge ourselves. We then judge our children. This can be subtle. Whenever we give our children the message that we do not accept them for who they are, we are judging them. When we judge them, we are in turn teaching them to judge others which is a barrier to compassion. Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron writes, “Only in an open, non-judgmental space can we acknowledge what we are feeling. Only in an open space where we’re not all caught up in our own version of reality can we see and hear and feel who others really are, which allows us to be with them and communicate with them properly.”

How do we attempt to raise children that are non-judgmental and compassionate?

1. We have to start with ourselves. Becoming aware of our own judgments, and how they manifest through our language, is the foundation. We can’t teach what we don’t know and practice. Practice using observations about yourself and your child’s behavior instead of judgments.

2. Look for opportunities in everyday life to teach the skill. Notice small, benign experiences to start. The story I told about my neighbor is an example. Once you start paying attention, you will notice that judgment is happening all the time. Once you notice it, see if you can re-frame the judgmental thought into an observation or factual statement.

3. Remember that young children are by nature non-judgmental. Children don’t come into the world thinking judgmentally. They are natural observers, and they observe everything! Anyone who has tried to walk from a car to a store with a toddler knows what I mean. So how do they become judgmental? They learn it from adults! A 2 year old might say, “I fell down,” whereas a 4 year old, having learned to be judgmental of himself, might say, “I’m so stupid I fell down.”

4. Notice it in times of conflict. The next time you find yourself in a conflict with your child, see if you can make an observation. “I’m noticing your pajamas aren’t on.” “I see your toys on the floor.” “The clock says that it’s 7:30, which is the time we need to leave the house.” Judgment is a huge barrier to conflict resolution. The next time you find yourself in a conflict, pause, and see if you can translate your judgments into observable facts or behaviors. This will help create a shared reality and will lessen conflict.

5. Remember that it’s difficult! Rosenberg validates that by quoting Krishnamurti, “Observing without evaluating is the highest form of human intelligence,” in his book, Non-Violent Communication. Observing instead of judging can feel like swimming against the current. It’s not going to be easy, and, with practice, it will get easier!

Have questions about using NVC with your child? I’d love to hear from you! I can’t seem to get enough of talking about NVC! Email me at: jaceymtramutt@gmail.com

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/raise-non-judgmental-children/feed0Blame and the Empty Boat Practicehttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/blame-and-the-empty-boat-practice
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/blame-and-the-empty-boat-practice#respondThu, 08 Oct 2015 21:04:27 +0000http://cultivateconfidence.com/?p=1897After watching a dog kill a cat, I was forced to look at how I over-rode my own intuition and to explore the concept of blame with the help of the Zen metaphor of the empty boat.

]]>I am sitting with clients at my office in the autumn morning shade. Their rescue dog sits with us. He was caged in a dog mill for 7 years until my clients opened their home and hearts to him. A shifting of position in my chair used to startle him- now he is unfazed. His eyes are friendly and take in all that surrounds him. He is relishing his newfound freedom and is confident where he once was unsure, eager to explore the surrounding ranch and then return when called.

There is also a cat; soft, young, grey with white socks, friendly, and cute. I’m not sure where she came from, but she’s been calling the ranch home for about a month.

The dog sees the cat and chases her. The cat seems unsure of what to do and the dog is surprised by how easily he is on top of her. She finally gets it and runs up a tree, as high as she can go, peering down between the leaves. We pause to watch, and then go back to talking.

The dog waits under the tree, then, comes back to us when called. He paces around. I feel uneasy. I hear a voice in my head, “Maybe you should ask them to put the dog in the car.” My client makes a comment, “Do I need to tie you up?” Then jokingly adds, “With the leash I don’t have?” Her intuition mirrors mine.

I see the cat coming down the tree. I hear my voice, “Stay in that tree!” In an instant the dog is on the cat. He has her in his jowls. He is shaking her little body back and forth. My client is there instantly, screaming, “STOP!” “STOP!” I’m there yelling, begging. Finally the dog is pulled off the cat. The cat lays on the ground trembling, twitching. I stroke it gently, unsure what to do. She continues to twitch- then I see the life leave her, and in an instant, she’s still, gone. My client picks her up like a baby, gently rocking her, crying over and over, “I’m so sorry.“

A man who is visiting the property comes over to help. “I’m so sorry, “ my client says again. “It’s ok,” he says, “It’s nature.” Her partner agrees, “He was acting on instinct.” Their words ring true yet how far I feel from that in the moment. “It could have been prevented had I listened to my intuition,” I think. Self-blaming mode is kicking in to full gear. I feel numb. Shocked. Later I feel sick, headachy, tired, and guilty. The weight of that young cat’s life is heavy in my heart.

The Empty Boat Metaphor:

There is a Zen story about a man in a boat on a river at dusk. Suddenly another boat is headed straight for him, coming faster and faster. He gets upset, and starts to yell, “Watch out! Turn!” trying to warn the other person in the boat, but the boat crashes into him anyway. By this time the man is furious and shaking his fist, continuing to yell, until he sees that the boat is empty. In Start Where You Are by Pema Chodron she writes about the boat metaphor, saying, “This is the classic story of our whole life situation. There are a lot of empty boats out there that we’re always screaming at and shaking our fists at.”

Charlotte Joko Beck also writes about the empty boat metaphor: “Now our encounters with life, with other people, with events, are like being bumped by an empty rowboat. But we don’t experience life that way. We experience it as though there are people in that other rowboat and we’re really getting clobbered by them. What am I talking about when I say that all of life is an encounter, a collision with an empty rowboat? … We think the other person should be different. They should be the way I think they should be. When we come to what we call “crisis points” in our life, it’s not fun- I’m not saying that- but it still is as it is. It is still the perfection…For instance, most of us in dealing with young children can see that whatever they do-even if they come up and give you a kick in the shins- that’s an empty rowboat, right? You just deal with it.”

No one to blame:

What happened with the dog and the cat is an empty boat. There’s no one to scream at, no one to blame. We could go through the blame list:

It’s my fault; I should have listened to my intuition.

It’s my clients’ fault; they should have brought a leash.

It’s the dog’s fault; he shouldn’t be so aggressive.

It’s the cat’s fault; she should have stayed in the tree.

It’s the people who ran the dog mill’s fault; they suck.

It’s the weather’s fault- if it would have been colder we would have sat inside.

How far back should we go? Where does the blame begin? All of the conditions that came together to create the death of the cat have millions of other conditions that led to that.

Empty Boat Practice:

When we find ourselves in blame mode, we could instead try the empty boat practice:

Listen to your story about who is to blame, and give yourself your full attention. I am to blame, I ignored my intuition, the cat’s death is my fault.

Notice the impact that has on your body. Sick to my stomach, grief in my throat and eyes, constricted breathing, head aches.

Drop the story and feel the sensations in the body. Stay with the sensation in the stomach, throat, eyes and head. Tight. Dull pain. Tears welling up. Tired.

Offer compassion to your experience. Breathe into the sensation, hold it gently, let it be, tell myself, “You did the best you could in the moment. You didn’t know this would happen.”

Offer compassion to anyone involved that you feel called to offer compassion to. Imagine that person receiving compassion. Offering compassion to the cat, I see it in my mind, and I imagine it receiving the gentle strokes I gave it as it died.

Contemplate what can be done?The cat will be buried. The dog will be on a leash next session. I will pay more attention to my intuition in the future.

Let it go. What’s happening in this moment?

Repeat as needed, until the blaming thoughts settle.

What about Isis? What about shooters in schools?

These are valid questions. My answer is that perhaps these are not the places to start with the empty boat practice. Instead we could start with with our own self-blame, with the subtle ways we blame our partners, our children, our friends, our neighbors, etc.

There’s no one to blame, so oh well?

Does this mean I shouldn’t take something from this experience? It’s just a dead cat, so moving on? Of course not- each moment in life presents itself with a gem if we are willing to pay attention, listen, feel, and grow. Life is always asking us to stretch- to become able to understand and hold more experience in our very being. Paying attention to my intuition is important. Understanding the nature of life and death matters. Each moment counts. You never know when your last will come. Life is rich with the invitation to hold all experiences with compassion. And, as my client wisely said, “When you are getting bombarded by too many empty boats, it may be time to choose a different river.”

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/blame-and-the-empty-boat-practice/feed03 Mindfulness Activities You Can Do With Your Child Todayhttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/3-mindfulness-activities-you-can-do-with-your-child-today
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/3-mindfulness-activities-you-can-do-with-your-child-today#respondMon, 21 Sep 2015 19:57:04 +0000http://cultivateconfidence.com/?p=1887“Mindfulness means paying attention, in a particular way, on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally.” ~ Jon Kabat-Zinn Mindfulness. It’s popping up everywhere! The reason? We now have the ability to study the brain like we haven’t before due to modern technology, and the results are in. Mindfulness is good for your health, your […]

]]>“Mindfulness means paying attention, in a particular way, on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally.” ~ Jon Kabat-Zinn

Mindfulness. It’s popping up everywhere! The reason? We now have the ability to study the brain like we haven’t before due to modern technology, and the results are in. Mindfulness is good for your health, your stress level, your relationships, healing trauma, giving birth, developing compassion for others, developing self-compassion, communicating clearly, and living a happier life! For more information on the neuroscience behind mindfulness meditation, The Buddha Brain by Rick Hanson is an excellent resource.

Even though most of us are familiar with mindfulness, figuring out how to teach it to our children can be puzzling. After all, they don’t seem too interested in sitting quietly and observing their breath for 20 minutes a day! The good news is mindfulness can be practiced during any activity, and, children are actually doing it naturally more so than adults. They tend to be absorbed in what they are doing and noticing details, rather than distracted by non-stop thinking. If you would like to bring the practice of mindfulness to your children, here are a few suggestions of things you can do today!

1. Go for a sense walk in nature or in your neighborhood.

Explain to your child that you are going to play a game to feed your senses, as they are hungry! The object of the game is to see how many things you can notice through seeing, hearing touching, and smelling. It will be much easier to notice things if you are silent during the observation times. The amount of time you spend per sense will depend on the age of the child; I would recommend about 2-5 minutes. In silence, notice what you see, then report back to each other your observations. Then walk in silence for a few minutes, noticing what you hear. Again, share your observations with each other. Then walk in silence and spend a few minutes touching things. Share your findings. Lastly, what do you smell? Compare notes. Did you observe the same things? Were some different? Is there a special thing your child really wants to show you? Go look and notice all the details- like you were seeing it for the first time.

2. Play Musical Instruments.

Choose 3-5 instruments you have at home such as a rattle, shaker, tambourine, bell, drum, harmonica, whistle, or any noisemaker. If you don’t have actual instruments it’s fine to make them by putting rocks, sand, dry beans or uncooked pasta in a tight container, using an empty cylinder oatmeal box as a drum, tapping a spoon on a glass, etc… (You can have your child help make the instruments too!) Then have your child close his/her eyes. Tell him/her that you are going to play each instrument, and their job is to listen closely and see if he/she can tell you the correct order you played the instruments. Then, switch up the order and do it again! If your child struggles to get the order correct, eliminate an instrument to make it a little easier. You can add one back in once he/she gets the hang of it!

3. Introduce the idea of mindfulness meditation.

There are a few books out there for children, including Moody Cow Meditates and Frog’s Breathtaking Speech. Moody Cow Meditates includes instructions for how to make a mind jar which is a glass jar filled with water and glitter, the glitter representing our thoughts and emotions. You shake the jar, watch the glitter swirl, and then notice how the glitter eventually settles- mirroring the impact mindfulness meditation has on thoughts and emotions. Frog’s Breathtaking Speech introduces yoga poses that include breathing techniques for managing anger, anxiety, and tension in a fun way. In addition to reading books, carve out 2-5 minutes to sit together as a family each day and feel the breath. If you want you can create a special place to do this- the corner of a room is fine- and have every member of the family place a special object (photo, object from nature, etc.) on a small table or in a special bowl. Try to let this be a relaxed experience- if your child gets up and begins doing other things, continue with your practice as best you can and invite your child to return and join you. Modeling your own practice- even if your child is not interested- will demonstrate that you value it.
Looking for more mindfulness resources? Check out my website: http://www.cultivateconfidence.com

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/3-mindfulness-activities-you-can-do-with-your-child-today/feed0Depression Sucks: 7 Questions That Can Helphttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/depression-sucks-7-questions-that-can-help
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/depression-sucks-7-questions-that-can-help#respondThu, 14 May 2015 20:56:12 +0000http://cultivateconfidence.com/?p=1878Are you suffering from depression? Here are 7 questions that you can ask yourself that may provide some insight and relief, and I promise one of them is not, "Are you exercising?"

]]>Depression. It sucks. Here’s my new working definition of depression: Can’t let go of the past, can’t move on towards the future, so might as well hate yourself in the present.

Depression results in painful sensation in the body* that we attach meaning to such as:

why bother with anything

you will never feel joy again

nothing is satisfying

life is meaningless

you are broken and there is no fix

In addition depression can disrupt:

Sleep

Relationships

The ability to work/go to school

Appetite

The ability to care for one’s self

The ability to care for others

The ability to do everyday tasks

Inherent in all of this is a deep dislike for yourself. Perhaps even hatred. It’s twisted presence winds its way to your core, compressing your spirit, and it is excruciating . The cause of this is complex, but most likely you can trace the gnarled roots back to your childhood. Most of us don’t grow up without believing something is wrong with us. We get taught it through social conditioning. There is a “right” and a “wrong” way to do most things in families and in the mass culture, and parents often consider it their duty to make sure their children are doing things “right.” So as young children who don’t know this set of rules, we get a lot of correcting. Believing in this conditioning results in self-hate, which creates a tremendous amount of suffering. In Cheri Huber’s book There Is Nothing Wrong With You she writes:

Suffering provides our identity. Identity is maintained in struggle and dissatisfaction, in trying to fix what’s wrong. So we are constantly looking for what is wrong, constantly creating new crises so we can rise to the occasion. To ego, that’s survival.

Depression can become an identity. “I am depressed.” Notice how the English language sets up a solid state that doesn’t change. In Spanish, there are 2 different forms of the verb to be, Ser and Estar. In general, ser is used to express things that don’t change, whereas estar is used to express things that do. So in Spanish, I’m depressed would translate to, “Estoy deprimido.” The use of estar indicates that feeling depressed is temporary, a state that will change.

7 Questions to Ask Yourself if You are Depressed:

Do I need to grieve? Grief is a natural, unavoidable part of life. No one escapes it. Often when we suffer a loss, we are terrified of feeling the grief associated with it, so we suppress it, which can turn into depression. If the answer is yes, take time to grieve. Allow yourself to fully feel your loss. Be kind to yourself while you do it. Grieve without judging.

Can I identify my “self-hate” thoughts? Identifying the voice of self-hate or self-criticism can be a useful exercise. What exactly are you saying to yourself? Can you hear a statement or phrase that has a distinctive tone that can be traced back to your childhood and recognize it as an interject (the rules and impressions we form and carry with us from our parents and/or those in authority) and not your own voice? Write these down and burn them up! You do not need them because they are not yours.

Can I notice moments during the day when I’m not depressed? There is beauty in everyday, although it is extremely difficult to see through the lens of depression. Still, try. Perhaps it’s the blue sky that catches your eye, a cute puppy, the taste of a bite of chocolate, or the smell of your morning coffee. Allow yourself to take in moments of enjoyment, even if they are fleeting.

Do I need to forgive myself? Did you do something that you regret? Are carrying it with you, using it as the barometer for your goodness, your worthiness, your deserving-ness of happiness? Are you punishing yourself until you can guarantee that you won’t mess up again this badly? As Helen Prejean says, “People are more than the worst thing they have ever done in their lives.” Believe it or not this is true about you too. Deepak Chopra says that the key to self-forgiveness is believing that you have been forgiven. A friend recently told me about a Hawaiian forgiveness prayer called Ho’oponopono. You simply say: I’m sorry. I love you. Please forgive me. Thank you. During difficult times it can be helpful to repeat it throughout the day, whenever you find yourself thinking about what you regret.

Can I be curious about my depression? Where do you feel it? What does it feel like?* Can you feel it and not think about it? If an alien landed in your backyard and said he had no idea what depression felt like, how would you describe it? Try to simply feel it at the sensation level without attaching any story or judgment to it.

Can I go see some art? There is research that shows that looking at art stimulates the brain in the same way that being in love does. Wouldn’t a rush of dopamine be nice? Head out to your nearest art museum!

Who can I reach out to for support? Sometimes inherent in depression is shame, and it can be difficult to let others know what you are going through. Finding a trusted friend to talk to or seeking professional help can offer some relief.

Sending you my sincere wish that you find relief from your depression, because depression sucks.

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/depression-sucks-7-questions-that-can-help/feed0Ending the Torment of Regrethttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/ending-torment-regret
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/ending-torment-regret#respondTue, 24 Feb 2015 04:22:39 +0000http://cultivateconfidence.com/?p=1866Regret is a devastating emotion that can bring us to our knees. The voices in our head can taunt us relentlessly about how we should have made another decision. This article offers some suggestions on how to get relief from regret.

]]>This is real life. You will be asked to make decisions that will bring you to your knees. You will wrestle and grapple with whatever it is. You will shed tears of agony and pain and then… You will choose, because you must. You will do the very best you can in that moment. And then….

Regret will set in.It may creep in slowly, or it may hit you like a bullet train. Your mind will tell you stories about how the other choice would have been better. The other choice would have had less suffering. The other choice would have been right, good, and happy. Your ego will judge you with the weight of 100,000 elephants crushing your soul.

You’re stupid

You should have known better

You’re selfish

You’re lazy

You’re a coward

You’re damned

The self-hate will be its own unique form of torture. You will feel like you are drowning in shame. It will consume your every waking thought and appear in your dreams. You will beg the universe on your knees to give you a time machine- just this once- so you can go back and choose differently.

But the time machine never comes, and all that is left is the inner darkness.

Then hopefully, when you are ready, you will find support. You will find someone who will not judge you, someone who is kind. He or she will listen to your story, and offer the salve of compassion to your soul, and teach you how to apply it yourself.

It was a hard decision

You did the best you could

It’s ok you were scared

You don’t really know that the other choice would have brought lees suffering

There was no right choice

You don’t have to punish yourself

“But,” the ego will protest, “I screwed up. I’m suffering. Clearly there was a right choice- the other choice.”

“When we are stuck in the grip of ego, there is no choice that is free from suffering,” the compassionate voice will gently remind us.

So what to do with regret? How do we find joy again after our hearts have been so broken?

2) Focus onwhat can be done. Can you change it, undo it, or make amends in someway? Sometimes situations are reversible if we have the courage to speak up, be vulnerable, apologize, or make amends. If it cannot be undone, then committing to acceptance is the only sane thing to do.

3) Allow time.

4) Forgive yourself. “Forgive yourself for not having the foresight to know what now seems obvious in hindsight.” ~ Judy Belmont

5) Grieve. Often with regret there is something to grieve. This doesn’t mean you made a wrong decision. It just means you couldn’t make both, and so you are grieving the one you did not choose. Allow your grief to ebb and flow and offer it your kind attention.

6) Work with your mind. The mind can be your worst enemy. Don’t believe everything you think. Practice mindfulness meditation- label your thoughts thinking and then return to the present moment. Choose this moment, the only moment that ever is. Be present as fully as you can with your broken heart wide open and vulnerable. Breathe in all that it means to be alive, the full range of human experience.

7) Commit to finding compassion for yourself and what you have been through, as well as compassion for others. It does seem that our pain helps lift the veil of separateness, connecting us to others in a more open hearted way.

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/ending-torment-regret/feed0Hiking With My Son ~ A Mindfulness Practicehttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/hiking-son-mindfulness-practice
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/hiking-son-mindfulness-practice#respondSat, 22 Nov 2014 04:25:06 +0000http://cultivateconfidence.com/?p=1856My son and I are hiking, and I practice mindfulness to look at and challenge some of my belief systems, as well as to stay present.

]]>It’s one hundred degrees in town and the ninety-degree temperature at my house in the mountains feels almost cool in comparison. I decide it’s a perfect day to take my 2-year old son Xavier for a hike. I know the spot well; a flat trail with spectacular views of the Rocky Mountains in the state park just a few miles away. As soon as we hit the trail he starts running. Fast. I know what’s coming next and cringe. He falls. It seems to hurt me more than it does him. He jumps up and keeps running. He trips again, this time a full-face plant. I rush over to him, and then back off as he pops back up, mouth covered in dirt.

We continue this way, stopping occasionally to look at the passing butterflies and chipmunks, until he pauses to curiously look at the incline on the side of the trail. “Be careful!” I say, not wanting him to slide between the jagged rocks and branches. To my surprise he doesn’t try to run down the incline. Instead, he picks up a handful of dirt and gleefully throws it, watching it sputter and fall until it’s still. Then he picks up another handful.

I notice my impulse tight in my chest, throat, and jaw. I want to tell him to stop. I try to think of a skillful way, something other than “Stop throwing dirt!” But I’m stopped by the pure look of joy on his face. I take the opportunity to slow down, breathe, and become curious. There’s no one in sight. He’s not hurting anyone. Why do I want to criticize his behavior? Why is it that I want him to stop throwing dirt?

My mind chimes in with all kinds of reasons:

His hands are getting dirty and he’ll put them in his mouth.

It’s not ok to throw it at the park, and if I let him do it here, he’ll think it’s ok to throw it there.

What if someone comes and sees him throwing dirt? Worse, if he throws it at them?

We should keep moving- we’re on a hike.

It will be impossible to get him to stop.

It’s not ok to throw things.

The last one in particular catches my attention. “It’s not ok to throw things.” In this moment, I know that’s simply not true. I dig a little deeper and I hear, “When he throws things you have no control.” I can rest into that uncomfortable truth. I haven’t had any control since we started the hike and he took off running. I admit to myself that there’s a part of me that wants to hold him firmly by the hand so I can keep him safe, moving slowly, and not throwing dirt! I also know he’ll never go for it. He’s 2 and enjoying his new found independence.

So, I sit down in the middle of the trail watching my son happily throw handfuls of dirt, and allow my fear of being out of control. I know my fear is irrational, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s there, and that my mind and body are tense. I start to practice mindfulness.

I watch the aspen trees gently rustle in the wind and the clouds swiftly pass through the blue sky. The air is clean and sweet with the smell of wildflowers. I notice how good it feels to connect with the Earth, and I start to appreciate the fact that I’m sitting in the middle of the trail, something I normally would never have done. I feel my jaw relax as I exhale, and silently, I thank my son for the gift of becoming present.

After a few minutes, Xavier stops throwing dirt and looks at me. To my surprise, he walks over, sits down behind me and hugs me around the waist. I feel an incredible surge of love. “Thank you for the hug,” I say. He giggles.

My mind takes over, once again pulling me out of the present moment. Only this time, instead of wanting to criticize and control, it wants to praise. “See,” I hear myself saying:

This being present stuff works!

Way to not engage in a power struggle over nothing!

He’s done throwing dirt and nothing bad happened!

I’m so seduced by my own thoughts that I miss the subtlety of my son’s communication. He giggles again, this time louder, and I’m brought back to the present moment abruptly as he pours a handful of dirt on top of my head. I feel a rush of shock and annoyance, and then, I have to laugh as he starts to run down the trail, giggling all the way. I stand up, shaking the dirt out of my hair. “Now, be in this moment,” I remind myself, and I shout, “Wait for me!”

]]>http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/hiking-son-mindfulness-practice/feed0I Want My Tiger! ~ Using NVC with Toddlershttp://www.cultivateconfidence.com/want-tiger
http://www.cultivateconfidence.com/want-tiger#respondSat, 22 Nov 2014 04:08:04 +0000http://cultivateconfidence.com/?p=1848My 2 ½ year old wakes up grumpy. I have no idea where he gets that. This morning, he climbed in to bed with me, stepping on my head along the way, and started whining that I needed to go and get his tiger, blanket, armadillo, monkey, and water, which were all still in his […]

]]>My 2 ½ year old wakes up grumpy. I have no idea where he gets that. This morning, he climbed in to bed with me, stepping on my head along the way, and started whining that I needed to go and get his tiger, blanket, armadillo, monkey, and water, which were all still in his bed. My first thought was, “If all of that is in your bed, and you want it, why not just stay in your bed?” Instead of saying that out loud, however, I got up, and went to get the gang for him. As I lay back down, he took the tiger and threw it, and then proceeded to cry, “I want my tiger!” “I WANT my tiger!”

To say I was irritated is an under-statement.

“I just gave you your tiger.”

“I want you to go get it now.”
“How about you go get it?”
“NO! I want YOU to go get it. I WANT MY TIGER!” Waaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So much for catching a few more minutes of shut eye and calm in bed.

This was going nowhere. Even in my half-awake state I could tell that. I took a breath. I was tired. I was not in the mood to get up and get his tiger, again, and I didn’t like the message it sent: It’s ok to order me around. Arguing with him was clearly not helping. So I fell back on my steady parenting rock, Non-Violent Communication, which is a method of communication developed by Marshall Rosenberg. Could I pull it off half awake?

“You want me to go get your tiger.”

“Yes.” (Crying….)

“It sounds really important to you.”

“I do, I do want my tiger!” (Crying…..)

“Are you feeling sad that you don’t have your tiger?”
“YES.”

“I understand you feel sad, and that it’s really important to you to have your tiger.”

“YES!!”

“I see your tiger is on the other side of the bed.”

“YES!”

“I wonder if you’d be willing to crawl over and get it, and then you would have your tiger.”

Pause….

“You could see how fast you could crawl over there and get it.”

The next thing I knew, he went and got his tiger.

Tantrum averted. Barely.

Non-Violent Communication (NVC) seriously rocks. It has saved me many times when I was on the verge of losing my temper, with my son and adults alike. There are four components to NVC, which don’t have to be expressed in any particular order: observations, feelings, needs/values, and requests. In the NVC model, when a negative message is perceived, there are always 2 choices: to communicate our own feelings and needs, or to guess at the feelings and needs of the other person. Doing this creates connection, a starting place for a compassionate conversation. Here is the breakdown of the process in the situation described above.

1) State what you observe- just the facts, no judgments or interpretations. When I said, “You want me to get your tiger,” and “I see your tiger on the other side of the bed,” I was stating observations. I chose these over, “You just threw your tiger,” which also is a statement of fact, because that observation seemed a bit more contentious, and would have been harder for me to deliver without an edge in my voice.

2) Notice and communicate about feelings. In this case, I chose to communicate what I perceived his feelings to be, but I was also very aware that I felt grumpy and irritated. This awareness allowed me to not be reactive. When I said, “Are you feeling sad that you don’t have your tiger?” I was conveying to him that I was aware of his feelings and that I cared about them. I asked him if he was sad because even though I was pretty sure I was hitting the mark, I didn’t want to tell him how he was feeling. I wanted him to be able to confirm or deny my guess through his own sense of himself.

3) Understand that feelings are coming from needs/values being met or not being met. Again, I chose to take a guess at his needs, “It’s important to you to have your tiger,” while staying aware of my own need for calm, i.e. to avoid a complete temper tantrum/meltdown at 6:30am.

4) Request. I asked him if he’d be willing to get his tiger, and I tried to make it fun (he is 2 ½ after all!): “You could see how fast you could crawl over there and get it.” And amazingly enough, he did go and get it. But only after I established the connection first- hearing him- “You want me to get your tiger,” and honoring his feelings and needs.

Where this can get a little tricky is it’s not about “getting him to get his tiger.” It’s about communicating in a way that values the other person’s experience, and creating a relationship where people do things because they genuinely want to, rather than to avoid punishment or receive a reward. It’s about connection, valuing each other, and modeling what it means to communicate in an effective and respectful way, even when grumpy at 6:30am.